


The Summoning

by Bree_Maggs



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Death Eaters, Demons, F/M, Heaven, Hell, Mystery, Romance, WIP, dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2018-12-07 11:34:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11622675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bree_Maggs/pseuds/Bree_Maggs
Summary: After Hermione Granger is murdered, she's sent to Hell on a technicality. After Draco Malfoy is indoctrinated into the Brotherhood known as the Death Eaters, he's expected to summon demons. They meet when Draco messes up his very first solo summoning. Stuck with each other, they'll work together to get justice for her murder. AU. Dramione.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully you guys like this! It should be short, I'm thinking like five or six chapters. Any and all feedback is welcomed and encouraged. Enjoy!

The Summoning  
Prologue: Life and Death

"Draco, darling, I know it's a lot to take in."

That was putting it mildly. His head was still spinning from the onslaught of information that had been thrown at him not even ten minutes ago. He had been lied to. His entire life. All those accidents that no one could explain, all those times he had no friends because "weird things" happened when he was around, all of those small explosions... They hadn't been accidents at all. They were a part of his heritage. It was his magic trying to show him that he was destined for something more.

He took a deep breathe and gave his mother a pointed look. She cocked her head at him, blinking rapidly. He didn't even know what to say to her. Somehow he didn't think he'd be able to manage anything close to appropriate. But then again, what was even an appropriate response to such a declaration? He didn't know.

"Well?"

Draco turned his head to meet his father, Lucius's, cool stare. The man before him was not the father he remembered from his childhood. That man had been warm, caring... Almost loving. That man had disappeared as the years had passed until, eventually, he became the man he was today. His temper was shorter. His behavior was erratic. He talked to himself almost constantly. And when he did speak to others, his exclamations almost never made sense.

"Well, what?" Draco asked sharply; a little more so than he had intended.

His father raised an elegant eyebrow and huffed. "Are you going to carry on our legacy and do us proud?"

"I haven't decided yet. I don't even know what it entails." Draco arched his own brow at his father.

There had been plenty of talk about honor and heritage today. None of it was explained with detail, but from what he could understand, he was expected to take over his father's role in a... a cult? A congregation? Lucius had been hazy with the specifics. Anyway. They were called Death Eaters and they did something called summoning ceremonies when the moon was new. That was the only pertinent information he had been given.

"What is there to deliberate? Are you devoted to this family or not?"

Draco started and he heard his mother 'tut' behind him.

"Of course I'm devoted to the family. It isn't about that-"

"If you claim to be devoted than you will take on the tattoo of the Brotherhood and join the ranks."

"I don't even know what the "Brotherhood" does! I don't know how you expect me to make a decision when I've only just been informed of my heritage-"

Lucius lost what little patience he had. "There is nothing to think about! You've come of age and have been welcomed into our world. It is the Malfoy family honor to be invited into the ranks! You will learn everything you need from them."

Draco bowed his head, realizing that, short of driving his father to violence (something he knew his father to be capable of when pushed), the decision had been made for him. Probably before he'd even been born. The way Lucius was still ranting about the "countless forefathers" only made him more certain. His hands were tied.

Hermione Granger was at the end of her rope. She'd had the worst week ever. Not only had she been killed, she was now being relegated to Hell until all further paperwork was looked over and verified. Someone, apparently, hadn't filed her where she belonged and all unconfirmed walkers (which, she just learned, was a name they used for all the newly dead) were all sent to Hell. They told her it was a precaution; they didn't need to send any serial killers on to Heaven if they didn't belong there.

So it was guilty until proven innocent in the afterlife. Who knew? She huffed as the small cherub sat before her and laid all the paperwork they had found on the table. It didn't look like much.

"Look, Miss Granger, they don't have a whole lot for you. Pretty much your entire file is missing. And that's going to take time to locate. In the mean time, you will be sent to Hell and classified as a low class demon."

"What! Are you kidding me? I've never done anything to get sent to Hell!"

"I don't make the rules, Miss Granger. I'm just a peon. I have to follow protocol."

She rolled her eyes. "Why aren't you on an electronic system, at least? Seriously, isn't paper a little behind the times, especially for higher powers?"

He glared at her. "No need to get snippy. We've already tried to get an electronic service, but it wasn't in the budget. Maybe next year, they said. In other words, go take a flying leap because it ain't never gonna happen."

She blinked. Heaven had budgets? That brought on a whole plethora of extra questions she was dying to ask, but she was abruptly dismissed. She cherub floated up, flapping his small wings, and pushed her towards a woman with ethereal blonde hair.

"Hello," she said with a soft smile.

"This is Luna. She'll be escorting you down. She's the only one that that snake can't break. So be nice to her and maybe she'll give you some tips. Happy travels, Miss Granger." With that bit of information, he left, leaving a trail of fluffy clouds in his wake.

Hermione sighed and turned to look at her guide. Luna, huh? Oh well. She stood up, walked over to her, and offered her her hand.

"I'm Hermione. Nice to meet you... Luna, was it?"

"Oh, yes. Shall we be going, Miss Granger?"

With one last look at the famous pearly gates, she sighed again, and said, "I suppose."

TBC...


	2. Chapter One: Nice to Meet You

Chapter One:  
Nice to Meet You

Six months after finding out he was a wizard, Draco simply wanted everything to go back to the way it had been. It hadn't taken him very long to realize that the Death Eaters were a Brotherhood in name only; they were a sick and twisted cult. They're practices had made his stomach turn on more than one occasion. He couldn't believe that his father expected him to brand himself with they're calling card.

Well, it wasn't that he couldn't believe it. Because he did. Lucius had always been exceedingly eccentric and just a touch... well, touched. And he had apparently been entrenched in the Brotherhood since he was twenty-one. Draco had a suspicion that that was the very reason his father was the way he was. He could very easily see his "brothers" driving him into madness.

He shook his head to clear his repeated thoughts. Thinking on it wouldn't change it, anyway. Nor would it change the task that he'd been set to. At least it wasn't a more sinister task. He had been offered a murder task, but had claimed the honor too great to accept as a way to keep his conscience clear and appease the Death Eaters. They had accepted his answer easily enough and given him another task.

Summon a demon.

Now, Draco wasn't exactly sure how this task would be better than murder, but it seemed the lesser evil of the two. He'd been shown how to do the summoning ceremony and he'd performed them with the help of the others a few times. But this would be his first solo summoning.

He carefully drew the circle and started scribbling the incantations around and within it. He took a deep breathe and sat down in the middle of the circle. He exhaled and began to recite the words he had been taught. He could feel the magic burning in his veins. He could feel it crackling like electricity through the air. He tried to imagine the demon in front of him. He tried to imagine the summoning being successful.

Whatever he was doing, it seemed to be working. Aside from feeling the air bursting with his magic, he could feel the pull on his core. The demon he was summoning was using his magical core to help it through the veil. Yes, this was it, he thought. This was definitely how it was done. He licked his lips and let the last few tendrils of magic drip down his arms and off his fingers.

The magic began dying down and the circle flared to life. There was a loud explosion and a lot of smoke. It made Draco start. That hadn't happened with the others. His eyes darted around, desperate to see through the fog to find out what had happened, what evil he had unleashed on the world. His heart in his throat, he watched as the smoke cleared.

In the middle of the circle sat a girl. Or rather, a woman. A very, very angry woman.

* * *

Strangely enough, Hermione had adjusted to being a demon quite well over the six months she'd been there. She almost hoped she didn't ever get sent to heaven. She had moved up the ranks a bit and was in the middle of organizing a demonic union, insisting that even evil had to have standards. She'd already gone through all of Lucifer's files and alphabetically sorted them. He'd been most pleased. She'd passed on whatever he was going to offer her as a reward. She had a feeling it would not be something she would enjoy.

So imagine her surprise when, mid union meeting number forty-three, she was abruptly thrown back to Earth against her will. She could feel the magic pulse through her, something she hadn't felt since she had died. She was very annoyed. They had destroyed her progress! That meeting was going to erupt into chaos if she wasn't there! Most of the members were afraid of her and afraid to cross her. Without her there, they'd run amuk! She was going to kill whoever had decided to use a half-assed summoning spell without a solid image of the demon they wanted.

Because no one even knew she was a damn demon. No one would bother summoning someone who was supposed to be in heaven. No one wanted to summon a murder victim that had been misplaced. She'd already known when she'd died that there would never be justice and the killer would never be caught. Because, quite simply, the murderer had been none other than the ring leader of the cult known as the Death Eaters.

Voldemort had been getting away with murder for ages. He held influence in the Ministry and always had an alibi for everything. All of his little pets were only to willing to offer him an alibi to get him out of trouble. Besides the ministry officials were idiots. She rolled her eyes at the thought.  _Understatement of the year._ They had been circling him for years, only to let him do whatever the fuck he wanted.

She had been gathering her own evidence when she'd died. That was surely what had gotten her killed. She had thought she'd been careful, but evidently, not careful enough. It was a mystery she'd been trying to solve, but hadn't gotten any answers. She tried to pump Lucifer for information on Voldemort and his 'Brotherhood,' but she had merely been laughed at.

_"Worry not, my courageous lion. We'll not let your fortuitous death go unnoticed. You will have your revenge, if only for the efforts you've put into your stay down here..."_

That had been all she could get out of him. Come to think of it, he'd been acting exceedingly squirrelly as the days ticked past. And then he'd told her it would be a while till he saw her next. And he'd simply said good-bye and told her to have fun at her little meeting. She'd been fuming, explaining the fact that it was  _not_ just a little meeting, that important things were done there. She hadn't paid his other words much thought at all.

 _Until now._  That fucker knew. He totally did.

Shaking her head, she faced her summoner. She swallowed her groan. He  _would_ be gorgeous. She was going to have to obey him? For the duration of her summoning? She was definitely going to be telling him how to send her back posthaste.

"Excuse me? Where the fuck do you get off? I was in the middle of something before you decided to summon an unnamed demon! I'm pretty sure I'm  _not_ who you intended!"

She watched as he swallowed. Oh, was he nervous? How cute. Too bad she really wasn't in the mood. She shot her eyes to the ground, cursing the goddamn devil for the hundredth time that day.

She had so not signed up for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are all enjoying so far! I know it's slow going at this point, but it will pick up soon.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Two:  
Get to Know You

Draco didn't know what to say. He didn't think that demons were supposed to be so... beautiful. They weren't supposed to woman with curly brown hair and eyes that glowed in the had expected horns and hooves. Those were the demons he remembered from the summonings he'd been involved with. But this... This was something completely different. He was pretty sure this was not what the Brotherhood had in mind when they asked him to summon a demon.

He swallowed. Man, the Dark Lord was not going to be happy with this. He didn't think he wanted a gorgeous girl with chestnut curls, burning honey eyes, and perfect curves. Fuck. Maybe he should have taken the murder task.

"Well? Are you going to answer my questions? I don't have all day, you know." Her voice brought him back to the present.

He cleared his throat. "Oh. Um, well... You're kind of right. You're definitely not what I was after..." He gave a nervous laugh. "But I suppose you'll do. You are a demon, right?"

She paused before answering. "Well... you're kind of right." She threw his words back at him.

He didn't know what that meant. "What exactly are you saying? Are you or are you not a demon?"

"Right now? Yes. But not forever. Somebody fucked up. I'm supposed to be upstairs, if you know what I mean. But justice isn't very clear in the afterlife, I've learned."

"Oh great. I summoned the only reject demon there is. Christ," he moaned, burying his face in his hands. They were going to kill him. Probably after they sent his angel turned demon back to where she belonged. Or rather her temporary home.

He definitely should have taken the murder task.

"I beg your pardon?" She was pissed. Reject demon? What the ever loving fuck? Where did he get off on calling her a reject? He was the real reject! He was the one who had failed to summon an actual demon. How hard was a summoning? She used to do them all the time while she was trying to research Voldemort's activities and she'd never had a problem. Maybe he was just incompetent.

"Ah, shit. I'm sorry. That didn't really come out right-"

"Didn't come out right? You don't say!"

"Look, I'm trying to apologize to you." He was beginning to get irritated with his summoned charge.

"I don't care. I'm not the reject; you are! What kind of wizard are you? I know eleven year olds that can perform a summoning ceremony better than you!" Her hands flew to her mouth. Fuck. Maybe Hell had been having a negative effect on her. Her mouth had gotten ridiculously out of hand. She'd always had a bit of a sarcastic side, but damn. Not like this.

She watched as his face turned a flattering shade of crimson. "Well, I'm sorry if I've only known about my heritage for six months! It hasn't exactly given me a lot of time to practice all my ceremonies."

She blinked up at him. Funny, she thought. He looks about the same age as me. She also couldn't help but notice that he was quite handsome, along with being about her age. She had bigger mysteries, though.

Putting all thoughts of his physical characteristics, aside she frowned up at him, trying to figure out his last statement. Most magical folk were informed of their heritage early on in life. It just made sense. Then they could take the appropriate courses to learn to control their magic. She, herself, had been told when she was eight years old and "accidents" had started to occur. Hoping to nip it in the bud, her parents had laid their heritage on her.

But if the man in front of her was to be believed, he'd only been told six months ago.

"Six months ago? How old are you?"

He averted his eyes. "Twenty-one."

"What! And you just found out that you can do magic," she breathed out in amazement. She'd never heard of such a thing; well, she hadn't heard of such a thing happening in this day and age. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "What's your name?"

"You first," he countered with a smirk.

She frowned. "You should know who I am; you summoned me," she pointed out. When he shot her a disbelieving look, she put her hands up and shook her head, choosing to answer his question. "Hermione Granger."

"Draco Malfoy."

"Ahhh that explains everything. Malfoy's always did do things all mixed up in the name of 'tradition' or some garbage." She was more talking to herself than to him as she solved the mystery he presented. And as she let her thoughts drift further down the line, she realized she may have an in to her murderer with this wizard. The Malfoy family had been affiliated with the Death Eaters for as long as anyone could remember.

"Excuse me?" He sounded indignant. Oops. Maybe she should have been a little more careful with her words.

"I just mean that your family is extremely traditional and as such they tended to do things that were a little behind the times. Your an example of one. They waited until you were of age to educate you about your abilities. Most magical families tell their children right after their first show of accidental magic in order to teach them how to control it and prevent such outbreaks," she explained as best she could.

He regarded her before giving her a slow nod. "You're right about that. We are quite traditional in every way shape and form." And that was stating it lightly. Malfoys had always been Death Eaters and thus would always be such. Which was why he'd been forced to take the mark of the Brotherhood despite the fact that it had been against his wishes.

"Well, now that we've cleared up a few things, do you think you could send me back? There's someone that I need to have words with." Lucifer was going to want her to take his place when she was done with him.

"I can try. I don't have much experience with banishing ceremonies. I'll do my best, though." She hoped he could. "Okay, stay in the circle." She obeyed, standing right in the center of the circle.

Thirty minutes later had Hermione tapping her foot impatiently and Draco sweating as he tried to figure out what was going wrong. He had done everything right, of that he was sure. She had helped him along, taking pity on him and guiding him through the motions of the ceremony.

"It just doesn't make sense!" she said suddenly, her eyes narrowed on the floor. "I used to do banishing ceremonies at least once a week working for the Ministry. And you've done everything correctly."

He flushed slightly at her mention of his perfection. "I don't know, Granger, maybe you were meant to stay here," he joked, smirking just a touch.

Her head whipped up and he was startled by the intensity of her eyes. "That's it! Someone is barring my return. And I bet..." she trailed off, muttering to herself about, 'fucking demons.'

"Seriously? I didn't think that was possible." He frowned, thinking back on what the Brotherhood had told him about summoning and banishing.

"Yes, it's really rather simple. A lot of them see it as a great joke; trap so and so in the realm of the living where he or she can't get back." She rolled her eyes and stepped out of the circle.

Draco watched her do so, wondering what the next step was. Would she go on her own and brave the world she once lived in or would she stay with him until he could send her back? He didn't know how demons worked. Especially beautiful woman demons. He swallowed.

"So now what?" he finally asked.

She eyed him up thoughtfully. "Now, I think I have a few questions and quite possibly a proposition for you."

She was going to take this opportunity with both hands. She was going to seize this chance for justice. And this poor soul... He probably had no idea what his father had gotten him into. Lucius had always been touched, but his years serving under Voldemort had made him ten times worse. He had been her last case, the one she had been working on when she'd died.

She sighed at looked at Draco once more. The boy looked nervous. She was never any good at making feel better. She was more about logic, books, and facts. Sure, facts couldn't love you, but they couldn't tear your heart out and stomp on it like people could. And often did. She shook her head. She was digressing. It was time to come out and ask him about the organization.

"You said you're a Malfoy, right?" she started in slow, testing the waters.

"Yes," he answered, furrowing his brows. He looked appropriately confused.

She licked her lips, wondering how to broach the sensitive topic of Voldemort and the Death Eaters. 'Fuck it,' she thought, 'I'm just going for it.'

"What do you know of Voldemort and a group known as the Death Eaters?"

She watched as his faced drained of what little color he had and he stiffened. 'I guess that answers my question...' She cocked her head as he cleared his throat. Was he going to answer her? She didn't know. Poor man. She'd come out of nowhere with that one.

"What of it?" he finally asked, tersely.

"What do you know of them?" she countered.

He sighed, looking resigned. His eyes fell to the floor before he addressed her question. "Voldemort is the leader of a cult known as the Death Eaters or the Brotherhood. Most members must be indoctrinated through another member, usually a family member."

She nodded. She knew all that. She waved her hand, indicating for him to continue because she knew there was more.

"They... They are not nice people. The Brotherhood is a group of brothers in name only. They would stab each other in the eye if it meant getting in the Dark Lord's good graces."

Again, she knew all of that. She had, after all, done extensive research and even an undercover mission or two in her pursuit of justice. She had never come close to nailing one of them down, though. This, however, could be her chance to have an insider. Although, he hadn't admitted to being part of the Brotherhood, yet.

He seemed to be considering his next words carefully. "I was indoctrinated against my will by my father. He... He's gone mad," he whispered sadly. "He dragged me before the Dark Lord and had him brand me." He pulled up his sleeve to show her the familiar pattern of what was known as the Dark Mark amidst the ranks. "I don't know what to do," he finished quietly.

She regarded him with her eyes silently for a few moments. She felt bad for him. He obviously did not belong among the murderers and thieves. The thought warmed her. Maybe he would be willing to help her. She had planned to try to manipulate him, as much as it pained her.

"Do you want to be a part of their activities? I don't feel like you fit in with them."

He shook his head. "I don't. I knew nothing of magic when I took the mark. They were all I knew. Until I started frequenting the wizarding world and learned that there was so much more to it. And people in Diagon Alley- you know what that is, right?" he said, pausing long enough for her to nod her head. "They're afraid of them. That's not right. I want so badly to make my father proud, but this... This is not the way to do it."

She had been right, of course. She'd known almost from the moment she'd laid eyes on him that he was one of the good ones. He had this aura around him... He did what he had to, but not because he gained any pleasure from it. Hermione knew that once you were admitted to the ranks, you were one of them. And you completed your tasks or you were shunned, at the very least. At the worst, you were punished by Voldemort or you were killed for your transgressions.

She didn't want to see him die the way she had.

"I want to help you," she finally said.

He laughed, but it was hollow. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

"I think it's time that I told you my story."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys are enjoying! Don't forget to drop a comment or leave some kudos! I thrive on feedback. Thanks!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Three:  
Kill Me Once

She swallowed thickly. Where to start? The beginning? Where  _was_ the beginning? She took a deep breath and met his eyes. They were a startling shade of dove grey, she noticed absently.  _'Focus,'_ she told herself. The color of his eyes was irrelevant. She bit her lip and picked a starting point.

"I used to work the Ministry. Do you know what that is?" She would have to be patient; he had only known about the wizarding world for six months. She wasn't sure how much he knew.

"Yes. I was told it was a bad thing, however. I'm assuming that's just the twisted opinion from the Brotherhood's point of view?" He almost sounded bored.

She nodded in affirmation. "Yes. The Ministry is like a muggle- you do know what a muggle is, right?" He rolled his eyes at her and nodded. "It's like a muggle government. Sort of. They have different departments that are dedicated to different things from policing wizards to creating new laws."

Shit. This was much harder than she had anticipated. She hadn't counted on the education portion that would have to go into her story. She cocked her head at him, watching as he took the information in and nodded at her to continue.

"So I used to work in the DMLE; that's the Department of Magical Law Enforement. I had been working on a very big case for a very long time. I was wrapping things up and trying to just tie some ends up when I was murdered." She paused, unsure how to proceed.

"Who killed you?"

"I'm getting there. You need to understand the back story. If I hadn't been killed, you would know my name very well. I had been at the top of Voldemort's hit list for years. My friends and I had caused his first downfall. He successfully killed both Harry and Ron as soon as he returned to power." She choked on their names a little, the pain still fresh, even after nearly two years.

"Who were they?" He was asking the appropriate questions, she thought. Perhaps he was already putting two and two together.

"Harry Potter and Ron Weasley," she whispered.

He nodded. "I've heard of them; why not you?"

"I was the brains of the group. They called us the Golden Trio. We had brought down the infamous Voldemort when we were no more than seventeen. We were heroes in the wizarding world. I... I am a very private person. I didn't like the glory or the glitz that came with being famous. Harry and Ron stepped into the spotlight while I stepped back and began focusing on my impending career."

"That seems reasonable," he agreed.

"Right. That's what I thought. I went straight into the Ministry, working my way up my department until I was where I am, er, was when I died. It took ten years for Voldemort to rise again. In those ten years, I had worked tirelessly to try and put away as many Death Eaters as I could. That alone would have made me a target."

"That alone? What the hell did you do?"

There was curiousity in his voice, but really distracted her was his eyes. They looked genuinely concerned. Maybe because he knew what his father and his group of brothers were capable of. Or maybe he just wanted to know how one small woman made herself a murder victim by cathing the attention of argueably the most dangerous wizard in the world. She supposed she would be curious if their positions were reversed.

"It was more than one thing. The first thing was what I did to his lover. You're related to her, you know? Bellatrix Lestrange? She's your aunt."

Draco regarded her coolly. "You? You did that to my aunt?"

She nodded slowly. "You should understand that during the first war Bellatrix branded me. Probably would have killed me if she had been given a chance. I barely escaped with my life as it was."

Yes, she'd destroyed Bellatrix Lestrange. She'd ravaged her mind so terribly that she might as well be dead. Hermione had gotten very good at memory spells after she'd had to  _obliviate_ her foster parents in the muggle world. She'd practiced and practiced them until she was more than proficient. She was damn near a master at it now. She'd given Bellatrix a brand of her own; a brand on her mind. She'd set her up with a room in St. Mungo's.

Draco didn't say anything more so she pressed on with her story.

"After Bellatrix, I went after Snape. That was a mistake on my part, I'm afraid. Turns out he was one of the good guys. But it meant the same to the Dark Lord. I was taking down his Eaters, one by one."

She licked her lips and eyed Draco up. He hadn't said anything in a while. So she continued once again. "Then I started attending meetings," she whispered, the horrors of what she'd seen still haunted her, even as a dead woman. Hell wasn't nearly as bad as the people that were meant to be in it.

Draco finally looked up at her, shocked. "How-?" He had been in meetings. They were all checked for the mark before they were allowed entry. He had no idea how she would have gotten in undetected. It just didn't make sense.

She have a short laugh, but there was no humor in it. "Harry left me some very important things when he passed away. The first was an invisibility cloak. That was how I made it into meetings. It wasn't easy trying to figure out how and when to get to them. I ended up having to glamor myself and trick easy Death Eaters into giving out their location and times."

"By trick you mean-"

"Oh, heaven's no! I'm not a saint, but I'm no slag, either." She pulled a face at his implied suggestion. "No I usually slipped them some Veritaserum."

"And that is...?" he prompted her.

"I keep forgetting you're new to our world. It's a truth serum. A couple drops and they were spilling their guts to me."

Draco nodded. "So you said the first thing was what you did to my aunt." He shuddered. "What was the second? Aside for the meetings?"

"I started building a case against your father."

Draco stared at her in shock, gaping at the information. He just couldn't wrap his mind around it. She was building a case against Lucius? While he agreed that the man was completely without his wits, he wasn't sure he agreed with the need to create a formal case within the Ministry.

"I know you're probably confused." Confused wasn't the word. More like completely and utterly bewildered. "Let me explain," she offered with a long sigh.

"Please."

"Before Lucius started losing his mind, he was a dangerous man. He recklessly raped and killed countless muggle women and left them where the muggle police departments could find them. He's earned a name in the muggle world as a serial killer. He's known as the Candle Light Killer. He always leaves a lit candle at his murder sites." She took a deep breath before continuing. "I was poking around the muggle police reports when I found something odd. Something that didn't fit. On one of the women he had carved the word 'filth' into her stomach. So I began to dig deeper."

"Let me guess," he said. "She was a witch."

"Bingo. And not just any witch. She was a muggleborn and she had managed to scar your father in a squirmish that had taken place during the first war. I'm guessing that he didn't take too kindly to that and as soon as he was able, he sought her out for payback.

"So I took all of that evidence and dumped it in with the research I had already started about his crimes against those of the wizarding world. A lot of it was property damages. He burned a lot of buildings down, but he also took to murdering muggleborns and half-bloods. He was wreaking havoc while Voldemort was building up his strength to return to power. In other words, he was trying to step into his shoes."

"So how does all this make you enemy number one?" He assumed that she must have gotten caught somehow. It was the only thing that made sense.

"Honestly, I'm not sure. I had been so very careful with everything. But obviously someone found out. Because here I am. Dead. Relegated to being a demon for the time being."

"So what do I have to do with all of this?" He was afraid to ask. He was sure he wouldn't like the answer.

"I want your help."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's short, but I'm promising an earlier update to make up for it. I really enjoy reading all the comments you guys are leaving! It's nice to know that you're all liking it!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Four:  
Allies

Draco almost laughed. He should have.  _His_ help? What the hell could he possibly have to offer her in the way of help? And what did she need help with? She was dead! He thought these were all very valid points and wasted no time bringing them to her attention. She laughed as he voiced his opinions. And that only served to confuse him more. What could  _she_ possibly have to laugh about?

"What's so funny?" he finally asked.

"Dead people need help sometimes, too," she teased. "Usually more help than the living."

He conceded her point with a vague nod and prompted her to continue on with her request with a wave of his hand.

"I want justice for my murder," she said, cracking her knuckles as she did so.

"Justice for your murder," he repeated. He supposed that made sense. If he had been killed, he'd want the person who was responsible to be held accountable. However, she had insinuated that Voldemort was somehow involved in her death. He didn't understand how she could get justice if he had ordered her death.

"Yes. I was  _so_ closing to cracking everything and taking him down again.  _So close._ "

"You're talking about Voldemort. Is he the one who had you killed?"

She smiled. "Oh he didn't just order it. He paid me a visit one night while I was working. I didn't stand a chance; my wand was laying on my desk and I was neck deep in paperwork on the other side of the room." She frowned.

"So how, exactly, are you planning on getting revenge on the Dark Lord?" he asked incredulously. He didn't understand where she was going with this.

"That's where you come in." She smiled broadly at him and he could already tell that he was fucked.

* * *

Hermione could tell that he wouldn't take to her idea right away. No, he'd need some prodding and maybe even a little manipulating. She hoped it didn't come to that. She hoped that he would trust her a little after she'd laid her death story down. But she really wanted him to agree with her plans. She wasn't sure why, but she didn't want to take advantage of him. Perhaps it was because she knew he'd been taken advantage of his entire life.

"If you're willing, I would like to work with you to take him down. It'll be significantly easier with someone on the inside. But I won't force you," she told him.

He cocked a brow at her. "If I'm willing? You mean I have a choice."

She frowned. "Of course you do. I would never,"  _almost never,_ "force anyone to do anything if they weren't sure. I may be a demon, but I'm there on a technicality. I'm actually a decent person."

He sighed. He didn't say anything. She wondered if he was even considering it. She licked her lips and waited patiently. She imagined it was a lot to take in. Especially since he'd been pulled so many different ways in the last six months.

"What, exactly, would this entail?"

"I don't have a solid plan yet. I would like you to be a sort of spy and help me gather some more information for my research." She paused, not sure how to tell him that she wanted to lock his father away. He already knew that he'd done terrible things, but Lucius was his father. And they say blood is thicker than water.

"What kind of information would you need?"

She swallowed and dove right in. It was the best way to break bad news. "I want to know what Lucius is up to. He's Voldemort's right hand man and I need to get as close to him as possible without him knowing that I'm back at it."

He gave a small huff. "My father. You want me to help you put my father in prison."

She nodded. "In Azkaban. I'm sure they told you about it, yes? Haunted by dark creatures that will suck your soul and energy out of you merely by being near you?"

"Yes," he said impatiently. "I know what Dementors are and I know what Azkaban is."

"And after your father is locked away, I want you to try and move into his place as Voldemort's right hand."

"Are you kidding? There's no way they'll let  _me_ that close to the Dark Lord. I've only seen him once and it was more than enough to know that I want nothing to do with him. I refuse to get that close. There has to be a different way."

Okay, that was fair. She wouldn't want to be that close to Voldemort either. She'd seen him up close and personal a handful of times and she wasn't eager for a repeat experience. The wizard was downright terrifying, what with his snake like face.

"Alright," she agreed. "We'll find a different way to get close."

"I still haven't agreed to any of this."

"I know," she said softly. "I'm just saying, if you do agree, I won't force you to get close to Voldemort. I can probably do that on my own. Being dead comes with a few cool perks. At least in Hell. I'll have to see if I can still manipulate the shadows up here." By the end of her words, she was more talking to herself than to him. Her eyes had that faraway look that said she was thinking deeply.

"Give me some time."

"Okay. Well, I'm going to go see if my house is still standing, I suppose. Where and when would you like to meet up again to talk about this?"

"Here is fine. And I'll decide by morning. So meet me here tomorrow around ten," he told her before stalking away.

She sighed and started walking in the opposite direction, wondering if she could still apparate even though she was dead.  _It's worth a shot,_  she thought, despite the fact that she didn't have a wand. She could feel and reach for her magic still so she didn't see why not. She was about to pull on that magic to try apparating when she felt a tug on her body similar to apparition, but not quite the same.

When she landed, on her ass mind you, she was sitting at Draco's feet.

Draco had a lot on his mind when he returned to his flat. He didn't want to say no. There was something about her that made him want to help her. Which was ridiculous. She was dead. He couldn't really help her. Not in the way he wanted to.  _If she was still alive, it would be different,_ he thought hopelessly. He didn't understand his thought process at all, but let it take over.

 _Should_ he help her? She seemed rather desperate for a hand in her endeavor. But helping her would put him at risk. And even though she was dead, he wasn't quite ready to die yet. And strangely, he wanted to protect her. Which was, again, ridiculous. To reiterate, she was  _dead_. Which meant she was already safe. Which meant she didn't need protection. You couldn't exactly kill someone who was already dead, after all.

He sighed, more confused than when he'd started thinking about it.  _Ugh,_  he thought,  _I'm just going in circles._ He was going to continue to think on it, when his thoughts were interrupted by a rather loud crack cutting through the air. He heard a solid thump and when he looked down, the object of his thoughts was sitting at his feet.

"What the fuck?!" she exclaimed unhappily. "Oh, this is just great," she mumbled under her breath.

"Why are you here?" he asked, completely confused as to how she had even found him, let alone ambushed him.

"Do you think I came by choice? I was heading towards town when I was dropped at your feet. Which only means one thing," she told him.

"And that is...?"

"When you summoned me, you somehow managed to bind me to you. Congratulations, you have your very own demon at your beck and call."

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter, but I did, at least, keep my promise for a quick update. I hope you guys are liking it! I realize it's a little slow right now, but it will pick up eventually. It's already spiraling out of control on me.


	6. Plans In Motion

Chapter Five:  
Plans In Motion

"What do you mean, I bound you to me?" he asked in a panic.

"I mean, when you summoned me, you got your own personal demon to do your bidding. Something in your ceremony tied me to you and now we can't go our separate ways and meet back up. It doesn't work like that. I can't be more than a kilometer away from you. If I am, I'll be summoned back to you the same way I was this time," she explained.

He moaned. "Oh God," he whined. "Really? How are we going to hide you from the Dark Lord? And my father. Ugh, this is so much more than I bargained for."

"Well, you're the one who did the summoning, sweetheart, so suck it up and deal with the consequences," she said with a smirk.

"Should have taken the murder..." he muttered. "Less complications, straight foreward. No demons."

"Should have, would have, could have," she sing songed, moving to sit on his sofa. "Is this your place? Like, you don't live with your parents, right? Because that would really suck for me since your dad knows who I am and that would ruin all my plans."

"No, I moved out when I found out about my heritage. I needed some space to think, away from them influencing me." He sat down on the sofa next to her, before turning to look at her. "Are you comfortable?" he asked drly.

"Quite." She snickered. "Oh, come on. You're stuck with me for the time being. Might as well make good use of it. Loosen up and hang out with me. It's not like we have much choice."

He gave a long, suffering sigh before throwing his hands up in defeat. "Okay. Fine. I give in. I will try to loosen up."

"Good."

"So what's your favorite color?"

"What?" she asked, confused. "Are we playing twenty questions? Because I think that game is absurd. We should talk about other things. Like whether or not you're going to help me. Because if you're not, I'm going to have to figure out how to do this while in close proximity to you."

"I'll help you-"

"I mean, I understand your position and I symp- wait, what?"

"I'll help you," he repeated, giving her a smirk of his own as he watched her take his words in. She looked adorable. Her honey brown eyes had lit up and her face was glowing with her mega watt smile. She seemed far more approachable this way. Far more easy going.  _She should smile more,_ he thought absently.

She threw herself against him a tight hug. He gasped, trying to breathe. She smelled... fantastic. Like fresh peaches in the summer time. He expected her to smell like fire and brimstone for some reason. And her skin was so... soft. His hands met the skin of her hips where her shirt had ridden up and he found himself wanting to run his hands up and down her back.

She abruptly pulled away, blushing.

Neither of them said anything for a while.

 _What the fuck are you doing?!_ She was yelling at herself, furious. She should have never touched him. Why had she done that? Because she'd been so happy and it was just who she was. She'd always been a hugger. It was... human. And maybe she'd missed that. Because there was definitely no hugging in Hell. It was a good way to get your ass kicked.

 _So why had she hugged him? And why had he felt so good against her?_ Mystery upon mystery, she supposed. And he  _had_ felt good. Maybe it had simply been too long since she'd had any human contact, but she couldn't be sure. His scent had invaded her brain.  _Apples and parchment._ Two of her favorite smells. They made her feel safe. They made her feel like she was right where she was supposed to be.  _Which is ridiculous._ She couldn't be any further from where she was supposed to be.

She cleared her throat. She thought he may have started, but she ignored it in favor of continuing the silence. She was still very much lost in her thoughts.

She shouldn't be thinking about this.  _His hands._ When his hands had touched her skin, she felt like she was on fire. It  _still_ felt like it was on fire. Part of her wanted to explore this connection that they seemed to have. Another part of her wanted to get as far away as possible.  _She was dead._ Nothing could ever come of it. No need to hurt herself. But... She shook her head. No. It wouldn't do to pursue thoughts of anything...  _romantic._

She had more important things to think about. Like how she was going to take Voldemort down along with Lucius. Maybe it was time to get to it.

"So," she began, smoothing the fabric of her shirt. "I've been thinking."

"Do you do anything other than think and work?" he asked.

She assumed it was a rhetorical question and continued on. "I say we take care of Voldemort first."

"What? How in the hell would that help? And why? Doesn't it make more sense to take care of Lucius first?"

"No, the downfall of Voldemort will send the ranks into a panic and they'll look to your father for guidance. And that's when we hit him with the Aurors," she told him, her eyes focused and full of fire. "There will be total choas."

He reluctantly agreed with her, but she knew he wasn't sure how they were going to finish Voldemort off. And she wanted him dead this time. Forget stripping him of his power. He'd proven that he could come back from that. Strip him of his life and let Lucifer deal with him. She'd seen what he could do and was quite confident that he could make Voldemort eternally miserable. She just had to kill him first.

She wondered, briefly, if that would make her qualified for Hell. And then she decided she didn't care. She'd been in Hell for six months and she'd been doing just fine. If she was destined to spend the rest of her existence there, she would deal with it. It would be worth it to rid the wizarding world of that monster.

She just had to figure out how to do it.

* * *

She was biting her lip, he saw. He'd known her for all of one day and he already knew that that meant she was thinking intently. She swiped her tongue across her lips and he felt a jolt go through him.  _God, when she was alive, did men fall over themselves for her?_ He wondered. He didn't know. He could see it happening, though. There was something about her...

"I'm going to have to run a few trials."

He started at the sound of her voice. He hadn't been expecting her to come out of thought session for a little bit yet. They usually lasted longer than this. So he nodded to her and waved his hand in an indication to get started, even though he had several questions circling around his brain.

"Being a demon does have a few perks; do you remember me telling you that?" He nodded and let her continue. "Right. When I'm in Hell, I can manipulate shadows to better hide. I've gotten rather good at it since I use them frequently to track down those who are playing outside the lines. That's a whole other story, though, so let's stick to the perks. Shadows are one. Fire is another. Elementals in the wizarding world are rare. They are not so rare in the afterlife. I can manipulate fire, too. But I don't know if I can do either in this world."

"Hence the trials." He filled in the blanks.

She nodded. "I'm just going to give it a shot. I'll start with the less dangerous of the two; shadows."

He watched as she closed her eyes and concentrated. He watched her brows furrow and her mouth move with silent words. He was beginning to think that the abilities didn't cross over with her when the room began to get dark. He looked around with wide eyes as the shadows began to grow and dance along the walls, licking the ceiling with it's murkiness. She opened her eyes and he saw them shine with darkness. He swallowed hard.

"Yes," she murmured, just loud enough for him to catch. "That's beautiful."

She bit her lip once more and called her shadows back to her. They seemed to disappear into her very being. He cocked his head at her, wondering how it worked, exactly. It seemed to be a handy trick to have. It would definitely help bring down Voldemort.

"And now for fire," she whispered, bringing her hands up next to her. They began to glow a soft red. He watched as fire began to engulf her hands. He let out a strangled choke, foolishly thinking that she would be hurt. She couldn't be hurt. She was  _dead,_ he reminded himself for the hundredth time.

"Perfect." With that word, the flames disappeared into nothingness.

"So you can use to your specialties in this world. That's good to know," he acknowledged, willing his heart rate to slow down. Watching her in intense concentration had been like looking at a live piece of art. The way her eyes narrowed and constricted, the way her whole body moved to help the shadows along, and the fire in her eyes when the element danced to her command... It was all so very breathtaking.

"Very," she agreed, opening her hands, letting the fire come to life once more only to kill it when she closed her hands. "So, since I can still do that, I'm going to assume that I can still Apparate. We'll have to try it, though, together. Since I can't be very far away from you."

He sighed. "Yes, I know that."

She rolled her eyes at him and he had to keep himself in check. It made him want to throttle her and laugh at the same time. He didn't understand it. He doubted he ever would.

"I know you know. What do you say to some light reconassiance work tonight?"

"Do I get a choice?"

"Always," she said. "I told you I would never force-"

"I'm in, then." There was something nice about someone not forcing their will and their beliefs on you. It's part of why he decided to help her in the first place. She didn't threaten him to make him do her bidding, she didn't tell him that he didn't have a choice in the matter... It was always, 'if you want to,' or 'if you will.' It made her likeable. And so he found himself agreeing more than he ever would have thought.

"Great! We'll swing by my place to take a peek at the files and then we're going to hit some Death Eater Haunts to get familiar with the territory."

He sighed again.

Why had he agreed to this again? Oh yeah. Because she was likeable.

She was counting herself lucky. So far, so good. And Draco was a good fit for her team. Granted, her team had only previously consisted of her and her cat, but it was still true. Plus it was nice to have someone who didn't answer in meows. She grabbed his arm and decided she was going to try Apparating. She thought she could do it, even without her wand (which was Lucifer only knows by now).

"I'm assuming you've travelled by Apparition before, correct?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yes, but only ever sidealong."

"Well, hold on tight. I'm going to try."

Miracle of all miracles, with enough concentration, she was able to make them both disappear with a loud pop. When they landed, her gracefully, Draco a little less so, they were standing in what used to be her home office. The place was a wreck. Papers everywhere. Blood spotted the carpet. There was a burn mark near the fireplace, indicating that whoever had used the floo last had been a little too forceful with their toss of floo powder.

And finally, there was her laptop. It was her lifeline. The only muggle thing she absolutely couldn't live without. Er,  _couldn't have_ lived without. It had every piece of research she'd ever needed, every shred of evidence, every piece of damning information... It had it all. She prayed that it hadn't been tampered with. Most wizards steered clear from muggle contraptions. Especially the traditonal type. Like the Malfoy's.

She bit her lip and fired it up. Draco was talking to her, but she wasn't listening. She was too intent on watching the machine as it flared to life. The familiar welcome screen lit up and she punched in her password before it greeted her and loaded her desktop. She impatiently waited for it to finish loading before she let herself open anything.

Once it finished loading, she sprung into action, double clicking her document folder and clicking through half of a dozen other options before getting to the folder she was searching. It was password protected so she quickly put it in and gave a shriek of delight when all of her work was right where she left it.

Now it was time to gather some new information to add. She gave Draco a wide grin and watched as he swallowed nervously.

"Now what?" he asked after a moment.

"Now, we check out Knockturn Alley. And then we strike."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoy! It's a little longer than the last two, so hopefully that appeases you. I promise, the action everyone is waiting for is coming up in the next couple of chapters.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 6:  
Awry

Draco thought she was crazy. But then again, Hermione didn't have anything to lose, he reminded himself for what seemed like the thousandth time. After she'd exploded in glee, she'd shut the laptop down and stuffed it into a small bag. How she had done that, he was still wondering. She'd shoved almost her entire arm down into it. Magic, it seemed, was everywhere. Just when he thought he had a grasp on it, she showed him something new.

Like that weird cloak. She said it was left to her by a dear friend when he'd died and that it would be useful for their purposes. She'd also pulled out a weird flask full of something and proceeded to shove hairs, of all things, into the flask. She'd waved off his questions and promised to explain it all later, telling him only that it was another disguise tactic that would help them.

After all that was done, she'd changed into a ridiculous outfit that reminded him of spy movies. Well, it wasn't quite that bad. It was black leggings and long black t-shirt. She'd rolled her eyes and told him that she blended better with the shadows when she wore black. He was inclined to agree with her, but wished the leggings didn't fit her so well. It made him... uncomfortable.

That had been hours ago. Now they were seated inside a seedy pub and he'd found out exactly what that vile flask was for. He didn't look like himself anymore, but rather a tall, lanky red haired man. She had sighed wistfully when she'd looked at him.

"I don't see what we're doing here," he hissed at her, annoyed by the whole situation.

"Shh, darling, I told you. Just a few more moments," she whispered back with a soft smile.

That smile did weird things to his stomach. So he scowled at her and sat back in his chair with his arms crossed. He didn't see the point. This wasn't one of the hang outs that he'd ever been to with the Death Eaters before. So he didn't understand why she would pick here to try and gather more information. And he failed to see how she could possibly have so much damning evidence against his father if this was all she did.

"Finally," she murmured, seeing a figure walk in on the far side of the bar.

He squinted, but he couldn't make out who it was. He couldn't even tell if it was a woman or a man as they wore a long cloak that covered their head. Whoever they were, the sat at the table behind Hermione's back. They nodded to the bartender, signalling their want for a drink.

"Long time," he heard Hermione mutter.

"Too long." The voice was distinctly female.

"Any new business in the bakery?" Bakery? What is she playing at, he wondered.

"Only a new employee. Recommended by his father who is a great patron of our work."

"I had heard that, through the grapevine." She paused and cocked her head. "And how is the great patron? I heard he was enjoying your boss's favor."

"As always." She snorted. "A bit more Mad Hatter than usual, though. I think it has to do with the new hire. He's worried about him."

"Yes, I had figured that. And your boss? How is he faring?"

"Stronger than ever. Building quite the following, even beyond the bakery."

"I see. And where might I be able to visit your boss to pay my regards? I do love his pastries."

By this point, Draco had figured out that it was a conversation within a conversation. They weren't talking about pastries; they were talking about Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

"I'm afraid he's not taking visitors these days. But I can see if I can get him to make an exception."

"Lavender." Hermione's voice lost all of the playfulness that it had held during the entire conversation. "No."

"Yes. I need you. We all need you. I will do what I can." That said, the woman, apparently named Lavender, stood up and took her leave, dropping a few galleons on the table as she went.

Hermione sighed and shot him a sad smile.

* * *

 Hermione was despondent and she knew it. Lavender had been putting her life on the line and acting as a spy ever since she had been turned into a werewolf during the war. She pretended to be one of his pets, using his trust in her to her advantage. She bit her lip and thought about all the things that Lavender had done for her over the last year.

There were too many instances to count.

So with a heavy sigh, she stood up and gestured to Draco to do the same. It was time to go. The polyjuice had almost worn off, anyway. They were almost out of Knockturn Alley a few minutes later when it did, in fact, wear off. She swore and started to swirl some shadows around them before throwing a glamour at Draco. It wasn't much, but it might help, should they be seen.

She swallowed and started moving her feet a little quicker, desperate to get out of the dark alley where she just knew Death Eaters frequented. She reached down and yanked Draco's hand, urging him to move faster. She could tell he wanted to ask her what was the matter, but the question quite obviously died on his lips. That only meant one thing.

Draco began tugging on her hand now, eager to get out as well. That's when she knew. There was a Death Eater hanging about. She intensified the shadows, but she could tell it wouldn't be enough. And that shock of blond hair that Malfoy had was hardly any help, despite the glamour dimming it down. He'd be recognized before her, for sure-

"Do you trust me?" he asked abruptly, turning towards a small alleyway.

"Yes." There was no hesitation. If he'd been trying to deceive her, he had already had plenty of opportunities.

The words had barely left her mouth when he pulled her into the alleyway. The new vantage point allowed her to see a known Death Eater looking in their direction. "I think he saw us," she whispered.

He shushed her and pressed her up against the bricks. "Shadows. Use your shadows." So she did, wrapping them tightly around the pair. She was about to ask what he was about when it happened.

He kissed her. Every thought she had flew out of her head. She... She had never been kissed like this. It was like he was throwing his entire being into the kiss. She realized it was for disguise purposes; the Death Eater would most likely assume she was some whore that Draco had picked up for pleasure.

And what pleasure it was. She was burning up from the inside, her heart racing. As he pressed his tongue against the seam of her lips, she couldn't help it. She release a low mewl and let him in. If she had been burning before, she was on fire now. Her hands, which had been clutching at his shoulders, danced up to twine her fingers through his fine hair. It was so soft. She thought it should be illegal.

His own hands had found her hips and were pulling her into him. She kissed him back with fervor and allowed herself to sink into him. She fit his body perfectly, she couldn't help but notice. And she could feel his desire; not only in the kiss, but in the evidence pressed up against her hip. At the feeling, she moaned into his mouth. It only made him redouble his efforts and his tongue began fighting with hers rather than gently massaging hers as it had been doing.

So lost in the kiss was she, she almost lost a grip on her shadows. She had to try and focus them to keep them from fading. His fingers flexed against her hips and she lost that focus. The shadows melted and it was just them.

Draco thought maybe her flames had consumed him. He was that hot. She set his blood on fire. She had every since he'd laid eyes on her. But now... Now he was burning alive. Her hands in his hair were driving him wild. The way she dragged her nails across his scalp and pulled his face ever closer to hers... It was all so perfect.

Dolohov had been close. Too close for comfort. When the idea had popped into his head, he didn't think she would go for it; not that he'd given her much of a choice in the matter. It seems it didn't matter anyway. Because she was kissing him with as much enthusiasm as he was kissing her with. The way her tongue twisted around his was sinful. Every swipe made him burn hotter.

He held her hips and pushed further into her, letting her feel every edge of him while her soft form pressed against him. He smothered a groan at the feel. God, she felt good. His hand slid up her shirt to feel the softness of her skin.  _Christ._ It was perfection. It was so smooth and so soft. He'd never felt anything so good. He wanted to taste her skin.

So with that thought in his head, he pulled his mouth from hers and trailed it down her chin to her neck. If he thought her skin  _felt_ good, it  _tasted_ ten times better. She was sweet and succulent. Her hands started moving down his body, skating past his shoulders to rest on his abdomen for a moment before stopping at the edge of his shirt. Once there, they lifted his shirt just enough to run her fingers across the bare skin of his chest and abdomen.

This time he couldn't smother the groan at the feeling of her hands on him. If she kept touching him, he was liable to die and end up just like her. Oh, God, but he didn't care. As long as she continued to murmur his name while he carefully bit down where her neck met her shoulder. When she let out a full moan mixed with his name, he knew he was in trouble. He was more than in trouble.

He was doomed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought!


	8. Chapter Eight: Move Along

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small Christmas present for you all! It's unedited, but enjoy it anyway!

Chapter 7:  
Move Along

It had been three long weeks. Three long weeks of accidental touches, awkward silences, and even more awkward conversations. She was sick of it.

After Draco had pulled away, he had been blushing and embarrassed. She didn't understand. A man who could kiss like that had no right to be ashamed of kissing a girl breathless. She hadn't known what to say to rectify the situation so she hadn't said anything at all. And now she was regretting it. She hadn't gotten much work done, hadn't even laid eyes on Voldemort, and she had no idea how long this bonding would last.

Long story short, they needed to get moving. First, they had to talk about the kiss that had gotten way out of control. That would help them communicate and make it easier for her to get work done. She didn't often get distracted, but hot damn, Draco was distracting. It was like he was trying to make her lose her focus. When he was reading, he would bite his perfect bottom lip and then suck on it, making her want to take over for him. When he walked by, he would graze her somewhere, anywhere and she'd promptly lose her train of thought and heat up like lava.

At one, very embarrassing, point, she had actually manifested flames. He had asked her what was wrong with true alarm in his eyes and she had just wanely told him she wanted to make sure her abilities weren't getting weaker the longer she spent top side. He seemed to buy no matter how meakly she had made the excuse.

"Enough is enough," she finally uttered, standing up from her laptop. She had been compiling the evidence so that it was all in order for the Ministry. There were some things that weren't quite falling together in the files, but they were rather filled despite it.

"What's enough?" Draco asked, his eyes still glued to the folder in front of him.

"This. Us. We need to talk about it. We haven't made any real progress in weeks and I think it's because we're both preoccupied."

He lifted his eyes to meet hers. They were twin pools of silver staring back at her. They made her mouth dry. So she licked her lips and cleared her throat, determined to try again.

"I enjoyed kissing you and it shouldn't have made us this way. We're both adults. It may have started as a concealment from the enemies, but it sure as hell didn't finish that way. And now... Now we have to be adults so we can move this investigation forward!" she finished bravely. There. It was out. The ball was in his court.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Draco swallowed. Of all the things he was expecting her to say, that was not it. Not that he was complaining; he had been going crazy himself. It seemed like she was doing her absolute best to distract him, from brushing his hair out of his eyes absently, so constantly licking and biting her bottm lip. And God, he could have just burned up on the spot the last time she'd sucked on the end of her muggle pen.

He'd spent the last three weeks discreetly readjusting himself and trying not to stare at her. Apparently he wasn't doing that good of a job, since she had noticed that they were both effected. He cleared his throat and tried to drum up a response to what she'd just laid out form him. And nothing came out. Fuck! He couldn't spit anything out. His mouth wasn't working and neither was his brain.

So he didn't say anything to her. Instead, he crossed the room and he kissed her as if he would never get the chance again. A small part of him whispered that that may be true, but he shut it down. He heard her sigh and drop her ever present pen from her fingers. He reached his right hand around her and pulled her body into his while his left hand wound it's way into her mass of curls. He licked her top lip and begged for entrance. She granted it wihout hesistation and he took total advantage. He ravaged her lips, stroking his tongue along hers before pulling her tighter against him.

She sighed into his mouth and he couldn't help the little grin that tugged at his lips while they were pressed against hers. He tightened his hold on her resumed his assault on her mouth with his tongue. She tasted so good. He didn't think he would ever get enough. It was another thought he pushed down. He wasn't going to ruin this perfect moment thinking about the fact that she would someday be unbound from him.

He didn't want that day to come. So he was going to kiss her every chance he got. He was going to take care of her for as long as he was able. He was going to hold her every time she let him. He was going to lo-

She pulled away abruptly and he licked his lips. Her lips were swollen and glistening with evidence of their passionate lip lock. He felt a swoosh of something in his belly.

"I," she started. She took a deep breath and resumed her sentence. "I'm not sure I understand."

"That was my way of telling you that you're right; we've been acting ridiculous. We both enjoyed it so why stop after one?"

He watched the idea play across her face before she got herself under control and the mask she wore took over. She was thinking. He was used to her thinking face. It was a scrunch of concentration, a bitten bottom lip (oh how he'd love to that for her...), and a perfect little furrow between her eyebrows. He'd seen the look quite a few times over the last few weeks that they'd been working together.

"I suppose you're right," she finally said, giving into his idea.

He knew his face lit up like Christmas, but he couldn't help it. He'd wanted to talk about the kiss long before this and maybe, maybe, have a chance to do it again, but he didn't think that it would actually happen. And here she was agreeing that they should do it more often.

"Besides," she said, "this will help move the investigation along. I've been nothing but distracted by you for three weeks. Now that we're on the same page, hopefully it'll be easier to work."

He sort of agreed. He planned on distracting her in a whole new way, but she didn't need to know that just yet. He would let her think they were settled in, but the second he saw his chance, he was grabbing it with both hands. He couldn't wait to start distracting her.

But in the mean time, it was time to get back to work. So he tugged her to him and gave her one last soft kiss before setting her free to continue her files on both Voldemort and his father.

Hermione was much happier. The kiss had been a surprise, but a pleasant one. She could successfully move on now. She wasn't naive; she knew they were going to spend a lot more time snogging now. But that didn't mean she couldn't work in between the snogs.

So that's what she did; She organized all her files into order. She didn't think she needed much more. She was more than ready for the action part of the plan. While they still hadn't nailed down the details, they did have a rough plan.

The next meeting of the Brotherhood was scheduled for Friday. It was Monday. That gave them a few days to make sure the plan wouldn't fail. The idea was that Draco would bring her as his summoned demon. She would wear a leash to show that he was in charge of her. But she would glamour herself just a touch. She didn't want them to recognize her, but she didn't want them to sense the glamour, either. That might throw the whole game.

Draco didn't know exactly where or what time the meeting was to be held yet, so they couldn't scope it out for the optimal assassination attempt. While it wouldn't hinder their mission, per se, it wouldn't give them the total upper hand that they had wanted. They would have the element of surprise, however, since no one knew Draco had summoned Hermione Granger, war heroine. No one but them.

They hadn't ventured out much since their scare the first time. The few times they had, though, had been quite helpful. Voldemort was almost ready to go public with his second rise to power. They couldn't let that happen. Hermione knew how hard it was to do what you had to do when the general public was in a state of panic. No one would talk to you. No one would help you. They all thought you were a Death Eater or at least a sympathizer.

So with a sigh, Hermione shelved the folder on Lucius and began making sure all of her notes on Voldemort were in order for when she had to explain what she had found and what she had done to the Ministry. It looked neat and tidy, but she ran through it one more time. She was nothing if not thorough.

After everything was in order and filed appropriately, she turned to watch Draco as he messaged several of the Death Eaters to see if they knew where the meeting was, yet. He managed to come off as the eager to please new recruit, so there was nothing wrong with letting him do it, she had consented. No one suspected that he was really looking for a chance their leader and then his own father.

The jig would be up, as they say, once Voldemort was down. He would not be trusted by his father, she didn't think. She was going to try and make it look like he had nothing to do with her plans, but she didn't know if the Brotherhood would buy it. If they didn't she would protect him with her second life. He meant something to her and she wouldn't let him come to harm.

She didn't worry about herself. She was already dead. What more could they do to her? Not a whole hell of a lot, she thought. Not when I have Satan's blessing to do as I please up here.

And that's what she had decided she had. Lucifer's approval. She figured this was why she was still. He had told her that she would get her revenge. And she was going to get it. Nothing was standing in the way this time.

She was pulled away from her thoughts when Draco sighed and dropped his phone on the desk. She lifted her eyes to his and he gave her a ghost of a smile.

"Anything?" she asked, standing up.

"No. Everyone else is still in the dark, as well. I will ask my father tomorrow, but I have little hope. Even if he knew, he wouldn't break the Dark Lord's confidence by sharing with me."

She nodded and moved behind his chair, letting her hands fall onto his tense shoulders. She knew she had been driving him to achieve more and more and it showed. She let her hands massage his shoulders the way Ron used to do for her when she got too tense. She knew from personal experience what a difference it could make. So she worked on the knots in his shoulder and neck with soft hands.

He let out a groan and she laughed quietly. "Feel good?"

"Yes," he practically purred. "You know what would be even better?"

She flushed, thinking she knew where he was going with his line of questioning. "I could probably hazard a guess."

"And what fun would that be?" He swiveled around in his chair and reached for her, pulling her down into his lap with a soft, "oomph!" from her.

"I want to kiss you," he whispered in her ear.

"So do it," she encouraged in her own whisper.

So he did.


	9. Murder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God. Yes. I'm alive. And more importantly, I'm still writing. I had been working two jobs. It had been eating my soul along with all of my time. I prioritized my life and got rid of the job that was quite literally taking every extra second of my life. So I now have more time to do the things that I love. Which includes writing! So this update comes with the promise that I'm actively working on this fic again and that the next chapter is already written. I also went through and overhauled the entire fic. Minor edits; spelling errors, missing words or phrases (yeah, it was that bad), and just plain bad grammar. I'm going to upload the edited stuff soon. But for now, here is the next chapter! Enjoy despite how short it is.

Chapter 8:  
Murder

Friday had come faster than they could have hoped for. The location wasn't disclosed until it was too late to give them a chance to scope it out. But Draco had at least been there a couple times and gave her the run down. She nodded as he told her that Voldemort like to be front and center. He was beyond having his back to walls. He figured all of his enemies were dead and out of the picture now.

The thought made Hermione smirk. She was dead, but she wasn't out of the picture. Not by a long shot. She fingered her replacement wand and wondered if she could do it. It had been a long time since she'd had to  _Avada_ anyone. She hadn't done that since the first war. But she had enough hate in her to know that she could summon a proficient killing spell.

She would have to hide her wand. Demons didn't have wands, in her experience. So she was dressing accordingly. A pair of knee high combat boots that she'd charmed before she'd died to create a space to serve as a wand holder. They still fit perfectly and went well with the jeans and loose t-shirt that she'd opted for.

Draco was nervous, she could tell. It didn't matter how much she prepped him, he was going to be nervous all night. As long as the Dark Lord couldn't gain access to his mind, it would be fine. He had assured sure that he was an accomplished  _Occlumens_ thanks to his godfather and it wouldn't be an issue. She believed him and had told him so, trying to bolster his confidence.

"Draco," she said, sick of watching him pace back and forth. They didn't have very long before they would have to leave.

He snapped his head up to meet her eyes and she tried to convey her support through that one look. He seemed to understand. She was asking a lot of him, she knew. Her look softened. Perhaps she had talked him into it.

"Draco, if you don't want to-"

"I do!" he said, striding towards her. He reached her and grabbed her hands in his. "I do. I want to do this. He's a menace and he needs to be taken down. But I've never had a stomach for violence. So I'm nervous. I... I've never killed anyone before."

Her heart ached for him. She remembered what it was like to be so innocent. What it was like before her very mission. Draco was doing much better compared to how she'd handled her first assignment. She'd gotten violently ill before they'd left and she'd shaken the entire time. And then when she'd had to turn her wand on Death Eaters and kill or be killed... She'd been sick with guilt the rest of the night.

"I understand," she whispered, stroking her thumbs over the tops of his hands. "But you won't have to kill anyone tonight, I promise. I will take care of that."

"I will if I have to, you know," he said, squeezing her hands before running his hands up her arms. "I would do anything to protect you."

Her eyes clenched shut. She knew he would. Why hadn't she found him while she was alive? He was so... perfect. She swallowed down the lump in her throat. She would just have to make the most of her time back here. Maybe... maybe he'd never find a way to send her back and she could stay with him. She didn't know. But she didn't think it would end well.

"I know," she murmured, fighting back the tears. He'd grown to be such a big part of her in just a few short weeks. A tear leaked over and she felt him swipe it with his thumb.

"Hey, don't cry," he intoned. "It'll be okay. We have this." He thought she was upset about the mission. Good. Let him think that. She didn't want to break his heart with her concerns. She knew he'd already thought of them. But they hadn't talked about it.

She nodded and grasped his face between her hands and laid a sweet kiss on his lips. "We have this," she repeated his words against his lips.

His hands dropped to her hips and pulled her into him. Her arms wrapped around his neck and reciprocated his embrace, holding him as tightly as she could. She needed this right now. She needed the physical reassurance that he was there. That she was there. That right now, they were both here. And he seemed to want that reassurance just as much because he just held her. He didn't try to kiss her. He didn't try to further his advances. He just held her.

It was what they both needed.

* * *

Draco felt sick. He wasn't nervous about the mission, so much. He was more worried about Hermione. He knew she was capable of murder and knew that she wouldn't hesitate when she had her chance. No, he was worried that there would be too many Death Eaters to just let her go. That's where he thought it might get messy. He didn't know if her shadows and fire would be enough to protect her.

But he would protect her with his life, double agent status be damned. He wouldn't let anything happen to her. Not after he'd just found her. He didn't care if she was dead. He was going to find a way to keep her. He was going to find away to bind her to him forever. He wouldn't let her go. Not now. Not ever.

With his resolve solidified, he led her up to the abandoned mansion. The chain that connected to her black studded collar clinked and he resisted the urge to flinch. He hated that sound. It reminded him of the way some of the other Death Eaters treated women. They kept them like they were pets. As soon as he got the signal, he was dropping that chain like it was on fire.

There were very few Death Eaters there when they arrived. Draco pulled Hermione behind him, beginning their act. She stumbled behind him and he sneered at her, resolving to apologize to her when all was said and done. Again. He saw the looks of approval from the rest of the Brotherhood. It disgusted him. But nonetheless, it meant that they were buying what they were selling to them.

She kept her head down, just like she said she would. The glamour was very minor. She was sure if she stared at Voldemort long enough, he would figure it out. So she kept her head down and it looked like she'd even managed to shed a few tears. It tugged at his heart. All he wanted to do was pull her to him and kiss her tears away. But that wasn't acceptable right now. Right now he had to play the part of a heartless Death Eater.

Within minutes, the room was filled with members of the Brotherhood, including his father who had only sent him a very curt nod, and then Voldemort was making his grand entrance. He glided across the floor and everyone in the room bowed their heads. He did as well, despite the fact that he wanted to stare the bastard down. Instead, he obeyed Voldemort's will and redoubled his mental walls. He was aware that he would be called on tonight.

They wanted to see how he had fared with the demon assignment. He'd of course checked in and told them that he'd been successful and had even bound her to him. They were all very impressed and he was instructed to bring her to the next meeting so that they could see it all first hand. So here they were.

"Young Malfoy," Voldemort said, sweeping his hand out towards him. "Bring your demon whore to the middle of the circle."

He did as instructed and felt the tremble in Hermione's walk as he led her. He yanked the chain for show and snarled out, "Come!" at her. She obeyed, just as he knew she would. He pulled her front and center and shoved her down, just as they'd discussed. Her hair fell over her face, hiding her features as she fell to her knees, trying to catch herself with her hands, but not quite managing.

He smothered the guilt and worked up an arrogant smirk. "I've just been calling her Demon or Whore. She refused to give me her name, which suited me just fine. I don't need her name to control her, apparently. She can't go more than fifty yards away from me."

"Impressive, young one." Voldemort circled her and tutted. "You've given her clothes."

"She wasn't much to look at naked." He examined his nails, looking bored.

A bark of a laugh fell from the Dark Lord's lips at his quip. "I think you should keep this one, Malfoy." He gave a maniacal smile. "I think you should show her who is in charge. Break her in, so to speak. You can do it. It will be the final step in your initiation ritual."

He tried to school his features as a wave of nausea hit him. He would not be doing that. He dropped his eyes to Hermione, willing her to look at him. Instead, all he saw were her shoulders shaking. In that moment, he didn't know if she was acting or reacting.

"I don't think I could get it up for the likes of her," he said calmly in response. Maybe he could get away without doing it. Maybe...

"Make it happen, Malfoy. It's the only way you'll be allowed among the ranks. And you will not like the alternatives," he hissed out. Draco didn't doubt that.

He swallowed and dropped down next to Hermione. "Now, would be great," he muttered, shoving her shoulders down. "I'd rather not do this for the first time with an audience."

"Patience," she murmured. "You won't have to. But begin like you're going to. I'm going to steal your wand."

He pushed her hands above her head and bit at her jaw, making sure to leave a mark. "No moaning, now," he teased, pulling his pants open with his free hand. He felt her smother a laugh before working a hand free of his. He grabbed it and, loud enough for all to hear, commanded her to pump him.

She bit her lip and did as she was directed. Draco smothered his groan. This was supposed to be a power play. Not a pleasurable experience. But God, he'd been half hard for the past three weeks. It didn't take hardly anything to have him aching for her. But he wasn't about to let these assholes see her naked. Or in any state of undress, for that matter.

She smiled slightly. "Loosen your hand. I'm going for it." He did as she directed and she quickly pulled her hand and had his wand in her hand before he even knew what was going on. She sent a quick stunner at him before turning her aim on Voldemort. She shot an  _Avada_ at him, but he dodged.

"Fuck!" she swore, pivoting to avoid a spell from one of the Death Eaters.

She surrounded her self with shadows and began stalking her prey as he headed towards the exit. He was not going to get away from her. Draco watched, properly shocked, as she blasted a fireball towards Voldemort. His cloak caught fire. And that was all the distraction she needed.

A blinding green light flew from her wand and him square in the back. She let out a sob of relief and fell to the ground. The stun wore off and he was able to move. Draco swore and ran over to her, hoping to get out while their was still mass confusion. He grabbed her upper arm and barked at her to Apparate.

Seconds later, they were gone.


End file.
